


quiet moments in the dark

by persephassax



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Hux is Not Nice, Hux just wants to fuck, I don't know how to tag this, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Paraphilias, Somnophilia, Submissive Kylo Ren, everyone gets the wrong ideas about how
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 12:17:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13294716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persephassax/pseuds/persephassax
Summary: Hux just wants them to lie still and quiet. Why do they all keep getting the wrong idea?





	quiet moments in the dark

**Author's Note:**

> Title from [A Softer World 1010](http://asofterworld.com/index.php?id=1010)
> 
> This works owes a huge debt to Daphne Gottlieb's "It's not sexy when you do it like that" from her poetry collection "Kissing Dead Girls". Sometimes the things you want are hard to explain, and people keep getting it wrong. (For the text of the poem, see [my tumblr](http://persephassax.tumblr.com/post/169411109755/persephassax-its-not-sexy-when-you-do-it-like).)
> 
> Please be warned for mentions of somnophilia and necrophilia play. (This is part of the "misunderstandings".)

He doesn't understand why this is so difficult. What he's asking of them isn't complicated. He just wants them to lie still and be quiet. It should be simple. It should be easy. But every single one gets the wrong idea.

* * *

There have been times where the fear of him, Armitage Hux, son of the Imperial Commandant Brendol Hux, was enough. He could tell them to be quiet and he could fuck them and they wouldn't move too much or make too much noise, but they always wanted to fuck face to face, eventually. He went through a lot of bodies, a lot of partners like that. And when the edge of fear would wear off and they'd start getting comfortable, he'd move on to someone else.  
  
There was the lieutenant who thought he understood, but he was wrong (each one who thinks they get it, gets it wrong). Hux would tell him _lay still for me, be quiet_ and at first he did as he was asked. But eventually he got the wrong idea (and how did this always happen?). A few weeks into their arrangement, where the lieutenant would undress and lie face down on the bed, Hux would ready himself in the fresher, turn the lights down so they were very nearly in the dark before working his fingers into the warm, pliant body beneath him, the lieutenant said to him, "You could stay the night, we could do this in the morning."

Hux stopped what he was doing, the voice pulling him out of his little reverie, where it was him and this body — the lieutenant — warm and still.

"What?" Hux wasn't sure what the lieutenant meant. They had never shared a bed for the night. Hux wasn't interested in feeling this body breathe next to him, too hot and too loud, the entire night.

"We could do this, but like. If you wake up first. You could just get right to it. You know. The way you like it, I don't mind. It might be kind of fun to wake up to you inside me."

The lieutenant was sort of smiling at him, peering over his shoulder where Hux was leaning back on his heels behind him.

Hux could imagine it: the lieutenant waking up, the way his breathing would change, maybe he would smack his lips, trying to get rid of his dry mouth (Hux doesn't know if the lieutenant snores, but he can imagine it), maybe while Hux was pushing in to him. The lieutenant would suddenly come alive underneath him. Hux swallows hard. It isn't what he wants.

"I don't think this is working out," he says, instead. He gets up, his arousal is completely gone.

He pulls on his pants and his shirt and as he's buttoning it, the lieutenant says, "I don't understand, I thought you liked it, when I was still."

"I did," says Hux and he leaves the room

How does this always happen?

* * *

It's a while before he sleeps with anyone more than once. The awkwardness of the first night and the fact that he sleeps exclusively with his subordinates makes up for the fact that none of them seem too be able to get it right. When he doesn't give them any time to get comfortable, they'll stay still and quiet enough if he keeps himself to himself and reminds them often enough.

One or two of them don't really get the _stay quiet_  bit, and he has to keep his hand over their mouths. There's the girl who goes limp like a rag doll when he fucks her, but every time he pushes into her she let's out this little wheezing moan.

She's a private and suitably scared of him, and she's so very good at staying still that he takes her to his bed a number of times. He decides the best way to go about it is to spread her out on her back and holds his hand over her mouth. Her breath is always uncomfortably hot and moist against his palm, but it keeps her sounds muffled enough that he doesn't have listen to them. He fucks her with one hand holding one of her legs up, below the knee, and her other leg open to the other side. She's always wet when he pushes his fingers in and the glide is smooth around his dick. He uses his other hand to cover her mouth and looks either at the way her breasts jiggle slightly with his thrusts or keep his eyes, slightly unfocused, on the pale skin of her shoulder.

But it's not been more than five times before she tries sucking on his fingers when he brings his hand up to put it over her mouth, as he pushes into the warm wet of her body.

"Stop it," he says, pulling his hand away from her questing lips and tongue.

"Come on, it'll be good," she says, smiling coyly at him. "I'll be wet around your fingers the way I am around your cock."

He pulls back from her.

"You'll like it," she promises, pulling his hips to her with the tensing of her thighs around him.

"You could just be quiet," his voice is flat, irritated like she's handed him a bad report, like she screwed up on the bridge. He's treating her like his subordinate, not like a bed mate.

Her face goes kind of slack and her expression sours.

"Don't you want to try anything new?"

"I think you should go," he replies, pulling out. He's going soft and he's tired of looking at her face. He's tired of her voice, the husky, sensual burr of it.

"Whatever," she says, and pulls in on herself. She tries to cover her body with her arms, and he can see the way embarrassment is starting to color her face. She pulls her clothes on, and shuffles quickly out of the room.

He lies back on the bed. It's easier, now that she's gone, and he lets himself close his eyes and think of the way she would go limp underneath him.

His dick starts getting hard again as he paints the picture for himself; a body, warm and quiet and soft. The slow heat of it spreading beneath him, and he slicks his hand up with the lubricant he keeps in the drawer. He thinks about fucking into a pliant anonymous body, not the private, not the lieutenant from before, not anyone else he knows, no name or face coming to mind. He tightens his fist around himself, speeding up the pace, and comes, the scene never changing in his mind's eye.

* * *

The last one was the worst one. The whole thing made him swear off sleeping with his crew completely. She's a junior officer, but seems to have heard about him. She doesn't quite corner him, but they find themselves in the same lift and she asks him if he's seeing anyone.

He's surprised at how forward she is about it, he doubts she's the kind of person he wants in his bed. There's too much energy about her, too loud and bright in the confines of the lift, not seemingly scared of him at all.

"I think I know something you might like, I heard you like it when people are quiet," she smiles invitingly and winks, so quick he's not sure he didn't imagine it.

Against his doubts, he agrees and they set a time to meet.

She gives him a code for her door and, at the appointed time, he’s outside her quarters keying them into the lock.

It's dark and slightly cool in her room when he gets in. He can see her lying on the bed, the sheets are white and pooled loosely around her waist. Hux doesn't want to break the moment, she'd said it was okay if he didn't talk to her, better even. In his heart he had agreed, he didn't want to go through the process of trying to make small talk, to put her at ease when he just wanted—

He undresses quickly, folding his clothes and putting them on the chair near the door. He’s half hard, astounded by how still and quiet the room is.

He gets close, her face is turned away from him, but he can see her breathing slightly. He pulls the sheet down, exposing the swell of her ass, the long lines of her legs. He doesn't pull the sheet all the way off her, letting it sit haphazardly over the backs of her knees. He's hard at the sight of all that smooth flesh on display. He can feel his pulse thudding in his throat, in his dick, he wants to see if she's wet between her legs, that soft, warm heart of her nestled between her thighs.

He brings a hand up near her shoulder to steady himself, and that's when he feels it.

The skin of her arm, where it presses against his wrist, is cold.

He diverts his hand, moving away from her buttocks, from where he was ready to feel between her legs, and touches her back, running his fingers down to her hip.

She's like ice.

His heart sinks. He feels anxiety curdle what had been a sweet anticipation pooling in his stomach. This isn't what he wants at all.

He takes the hand that he was going to use to feel inside of her and pulls her over by her shoulder.

Her face is pale, there's something blue tinted smeared across her lips. She looks _dead_. He recoils.

She feels him pull away, and opens her eyes. She looks at him, confused.

“What's wrong with you?” he spits at her.

“I thought this is what you wanted,” she says.

“No,” he says, feeling something like anguish in his throat. Is this what people think of him? That he's some sort of corpse fucker? He's never wanted anyone less in his life than in this moment. “Why would you think that?”

She rolls her eyes at him.

“You want people to lie perfectly still and quiet while you fuck them. It's not that much of a leap.”

His face contorts with disgust.

Without saying anything else, he gets up and pulls his clothes on again. He's so tired of this. He just wants to fuck, and feel good, and be done with this.

“Never speak of this to anyone,” he says at the door. “That's an order.”

* * *

Hux gives up for a while. It's not something he needs. He is readily acquainted with his left hand, and he can see to himself easily enough. And so it goes, for a year, a year and a half, two.

He doesn't expect to solve his problem, much less does he expect to solve it with the help of Snoke’s favored apprentice, Kylo Ren.

* * *

The opportunity to have Kylo Ren in his bed comes one night after they have spent an evening in Hux's quarters breaking all of Hux’s self-imposed rules and the ones that Snoke has laid out for Ren. Hux doesn't bother asking how this will impact Ren’s training, because he doesn't really care. But after he’s finished his first drink and is somewhere at the end of his second, Ren has gone quiet. The normally charged aura around him has mellowed, and the nervous energy of him had dissipated. He won't look Hux in the face and Hux can't bring himself to tear his eyes from Ren’s youthful, sullen features. Ren is staring alternately at the floor and at Hux’s knees. He has his knees spread, one leg partially stretched out in front of him. Under the effect of the brandy it's easy to imagine Ren spread out on his bed. The thought of that dark mop of hair spread out on his pillow, his broad shoulders, the way his body must warm the very air around it—he shakes his head lightly to clear it. The brandy may have Hux’s hopes ever so slightly raised, because Kylo Ren has never been quiet. He is a storm ever brewing and threatening to break over Hux’s head. Undoubtedly, he would expect Hux to spread his legs for _him_ and he has no interest in having someone see him like that, much less touch him in that manner. But the image of that long body spread out against his dark sheets, quiescent, is tantalizing nonetheless. He files it away, feeling himself half-hard with it, to take to bed with him tonight.

Finally, Kylo Ren breaks the silence. He’s fidgeting with the glass in his hand, tapping at it with some kind of nerves, it looks fragile between his huge palms.

“Would you fuck me?” he asks.

Hux is brought up short. He pulls his glass from his lips, glad he had not yet taken a sip, uncertain he wouldn't have choked on it at the question.

“Excuse me?” he asks in return.

“Everyone always wants me to fuck them, but would _you_ fuck _me_ ,” he replies, his stormy eyes peering up at Hux through his fringe.

The image that Hux had worked so hard to banish rises up again, in full force and color, playing like a porno clip in his head.

“It depends,” he replies, politic.

“What? Would you want me to beg?” Ren asks, his lip curling in distaste.

Hux hums in reply.

“No, quite the opposite, in fact.”

That gets Ren to lift his head. His expression is a little blurry with drink, but something has sprung to life in his eyes.

“Oh?”

Hux takes a sip of the brandy in his glass. He smirks a little and looks past Ren, eying his neatly made bed, and returning his gaze to the man before him.

“You think you could keep quiet for me? Still and quiet and let me fuck you just like that?”

There's a flush to Ren’s cheeks and Hux finds himself warming to the idea, the brandy making his own skin feel hot.

“Stripped naked, every inch of you on display. Soft and warm and still. I'll slick you up, feel the heat of you around my fingers. No names, no nothing, just our two bodies. Would you do that? Just let me have you?”

There’s a dreamy note to his voice, he's aware that he's giving away just how much he wants this. But he's hard in his uniform slacks and he can't quite keep it all inside his head, this time. Ren’s flush has grown, spreading to where his ears are half hidden by his wild curls. He licks his lips and Hux barely registers the movement.

“Why don't you find out?” Ren’s voice is a whisper, like he's afraid to break the intense quiet between them. Hux knows that he will try, one last time.

* * *

Hux goes to the fresher, leaving Kylo Ren to ready himself in the bedroom. He’s unwilling to admit to the half used bottle of lubricant in the bedside drawer, as if it somehow matters. But with a new partner, especially one as promising as Ren seems, he likes opening a fresh one, like this is something unexpected.

He strips and puts his clothes in the laundry chute, stepping back out into the room. Anticipation burns hot and nervous, low in his gut. He dims the lights as he steps in, letting the dark settle over them both. Ren is lying on the bed, his back is a long, strong line, and Hux can see his ribs expand and contract with each breath he takes. He is facing out, his arms loose along his sides, and his eyes are slivers of darkness in his face, his curls are tousled and untamed, curving over his cheeks and forehead. Hux stops and breathes a sigh of relief. Though it would have been impossible for Ren to do without his having planned ahead, seeing that his face has the same healthy flush, a slightly elevated color that it did earlier, no hint of pallor or blue lipstick in sight, is a relief. A ball of terror he hadn’t been fully aware of comes unknotted in his chest. A little rush of desire speeds down his spine and throbs in his dick. Kylo Ren doesn’t move or speak, although Hux thinks his eyes might be following his progress across the room. He ignores it.

He gets to the bed and kneels at the edge, he runs a hand along Ren’s back, he shivers lightly under the touch, his body is warm, almost sleep warm, and his breathing is quiet. Hux cups the firm muscles of the body’s arse, kneads them slightly, running his hand further down to those strong thighs, the tendons at the backs of the knees, back up along the insides where they’re not quite touching. His other hand is on his cock, it feels good: the quiet, ready body in front of him; the hot, ready anticipation inside himself.

He picks the lubricant up, opens the top, and rips off the seal that’s keeping it fresh. He suspects that it doesn’t really need it, but he likes the way it makes him feel. It’s daring, a moment to savor as the slick starts to spill over the top from the excited pressure of his hand around the tube. He catches it on his fingers, pushes more out until they’re slippery, soaking wet, and it’s sliding down between them and onto his palm. Ready now, he slides his fingers along Ren’s crack, dipping into the heat trapped between them, feeling the furl of muscle at the entrance to his body. As he pushes in, Ren makes a little noise, a little breathy _ah_ and Hux freezes, his finger barely past the first knuckle.

“Shhh,” he says, quiet, trying to keep a hold on the moment. He hopes he doesn’t sound pleading, but he’s not sure he can do this if Ren won’t be quiet. “Please, be quiet.”

Ren nods, nearly imperceptibly. He says quickly, in a nearly inaudible whisper, “Usually people want something.”

Hux shakes his head, “Just stay quiet. Quiet. Please.”

Ren closes his eyes and after they both stay frozen still, trapped, like that for a moment, Hux starts again. He pulls his finger out and slicks it up again, wanting everything to be slick and smooth.

The lubricant is cold, he knows, but it’ll warm up, from the heat in Ren’s body, from the movement of Hux’s fingers in him, from the movement of his cock in him, eventually. He breathes deeply and presses in again. This time there is no sound from Ren. His breaths aren’t audible over the buzz of excitement in Hux’s ears, the way he can focus completely on the _hot_ and _wet_ of Ren’s body. His own exhale is shaky. He pushes his finger in, and out, and in again, feeling the glide get easier with every thrust. He pulls his finger nearly all the way out and with a little more lubricant pushes two fingers in. Ren’s body was tight to begin with, but the muscle at his rim is tighter still around two fingers. Hux stays there, teasing the edge, stretching the muscle lightly, before gliding his fingers back in, feeling the smooth walls inside, the heat of them pressing down on his digits. He pulls a little at one of Ren’s asscheeks, spreading them so he can see where his fingers sink into the warmth inside.

He’s quicker to add the third finger, impatient. He slicks his fingers up again. The lubricant is starting to slide down Ren’s thighs, dripping out and around and on him, probably staining the sheets. Hux doesn’t mind. He thinks about how it’ll feel, the effortless slide into the body beneath him. He cups himself again. He’s ready, he’s so ready for this. He hasn’t felt the tight pull of a human body around his cock in years and he can’t believe it’s about to happen.

He pulls lightly at himself, feeling the place where the head is slightly damp around the slit. He take his hand away and with his fingers picks up some of the slick that’s collected on the backs of Ren’s thighs and rubs it into the head of his dick. Almost ready, now.

Ren’s body is loose around three fingers. It’ll be tight around his cock, but he wants to feel it. He wants the squeeze, the way a body is never quite ready for him to push himself into it. He knows that Ren is slick inside, that he’s ready for this.

Carefully, he spreads Ren’s legs a little wider. Ren does nothing to stop him, there’s barely any resistance, except for the way gravity pulls at the weight of him. Hux's breathing is shallow. When he kneels between those strong, muscular legs, limp as they are with lassitude, he picks the lubricant up again. He cups his palm and pours it out and smears it along his dick, fisting it. The sensation is familiar, easy now from the decade and a half he’s spent learning his body like this, a palty imitation of what’s to come. When he’s certain he’s covered with it, he braces himself on one arm, planting it carefully next to Ren’s rib cage, just beyond where it would touch where it expands, when he inhales, and uses the other to guide himself to where he’s fucked Ren open with his fingers, to where his body is slick and ready, waiting for him.

It’s a tight and steady pressure, pushing back on him as he pushes the head of his cock in. Finally, the muscle gives way around him, and the slick warmth inside pulls at him as he keeps pushing forward. Hux’s breath stutters and he lets out a little noise of his own. Ren is placid and calm beneath him, warm and breathing and silent. He tips his pelvis forward and gives a sharp little thrust, feeling the way Ren’s body is tight around him. Moving within him is smooth and slick from Hux’s earlier efforts, but it’s no less snug where he’s buried inside him.

He sets to it. His arms are holding him up and away from Ren’s torso, and his hips are working steadily, pulling out and pushing in, feeling the ebb and flow of Ren’s body beneath him. Ren is good at keeping his breathing steady. There’s a little drag to their bodies, a push down and into the mattress when Hux presses in. He imagines that Ren is hard, his cock trapped between the soft heat of his body and the give of the mattress. Maybe there’s a wet spot, not just from the lubricant that Hux has spilled between Ren’s thighs, but maybe Ren is wet, all on his own from the way Hux has been filling his body, pressing into him with his fingers and his cock.

He pushes hard, picking up the pace. He’s so hard and the feel of Ren’s passive body is divine. The hot, wet, tight feel of him, where they come together. In this moment, they could be anybody, they are nobody and everybody and Hux feels the euphoria in him build.

Eventually he loses it, a little bit, he goes down onto his elbows, pressing his chest into Ren’s back, feeling the swell of his ass, the heat pouring off his body, the sweat gathering on his skin all along his front and he’s shoving quick, sharp little thrusts of his hips into Ren, breathing hard against him.

It overtakes him, he shatters apart, spilling, and evaporating into nothingness, the rush of the room startling into a deafening silence as the world disappears and it’s just his body, his release, and the slick heat around him getting slicker still with his semen. He chokes on his breath and comes down.

He slips out of Ren and lies on his side.

* * *

“Are you okay?” Ren has turned over slightly, lifting his hips from the bed. There is indeed a wet spot beneath him, but Hux thinks it’s probably only from the lube after all. He knows his chest is flushed and his hair must be in disarray from the sweat that gathered at his temples and his hairline.

Ren is hard, his cock dark and impressive where it juts from between his hips. There is a mess of unkempt dark curls at the base, and they’re flattened with sweat, from where they were trapped in the heat, under his body, while Hux was fucking him.

Hux nods. He licks his lips. He takes a deep breath, still uncertain if his lungs are working.

He stretches out a hand and wraps it around Kylo Ren’s magnificent dick. It’s hot and smooth and slightly sticky with sweat under his palm. He can’t tell if the head is damp at all with precum because his own hand is still slick with lubricant. He slides his fist along, palm pressed tight to the underside, keeping his fingers tight at the tip, giving him something to fuck into.

Ren says nothing as Hux jerks him off, he bites his lip, it’s red and slick with his saliva, and keeps half-lidded eyes trained on Hux’s face.

He isn’t sure he likes this very much, the way Ren is looking at him, so he squeezes his hand a little tighter and then flips it so he’s stroking it from the top, as if he were jerking himself off, upside down. He wants to hide from the dark, hazel eyes that are trained on him, so he slips down the bed, hand still on Ren’s cock and nuzzles the underside of it. He wraps his lips around one of Ren’s testicles, the wrinkled skin of his sac is soft against Hux’s tongue, and he sucks, rolling it in his mouth. Ren is silent, but one of his hands has moved and Hux can imagine it, the breadth of his palm, those strong, blunt fingers digging into his cheek, pressed over his mouth. He lets the testicle go and goes for the other one, running his tongue between them, pressing his nose in to smell the musk of the heat and sweat of him, feeling the crinkle of hair against his lips and cheek. He sucks the other testicle into his mouth, the shape of it pressing against his hollowed cheeks. He licks it once, twice, and lets it go, pressing his nose against the base of Ren’s dick, running his mouth along the underside of it. He gets to the head and sucks it into his mouth.

It’s too big, uncomfortable against his jaw, where he has to keep his lips wrapped over his teeth, sucking, pressing the head of it against his tongue. He feels a little twitch in Ren’s hips and pulls his mouth away, keeping his fingers tight around his cock as he jerks it, quick and smooth, in rolling waves of motion and looks up in time to see Ren’s face in a rictus of pleasure as he comes.

* * *

“That was good,” Kylo Ren says, after he’s caught his breath. He’s still flushed and his hair is sticking to itself in little clumps along his hairline.

They aren’t touching, lying next to each other on the bed, just enough space between them to feel the heat coming off each other’s skin without having to feel the sweat that’s cooling on both of them.

“Yes,” says Hux, uncertain where this is going. It was good. Better than it has ever been. But he’s not sure it can last.

“Why do you like it like that?” Ren asks. His voice is a deep rumble, not nearly as disruptive in the dark, the way it reminds Hux of the feeling of starship engines, deep below deck.

“It’s calm,” he says. “We could be anyone. You could be anyone. Just waiting here, for me. And you’re warm and you don’t want anything, and you don’t say anything. We just fuck. Nothing else.”

Ren is silent for a long time, and Hux is certain this is the end of it.

“Would you fuck me on my back?” Kylo Ren asks. “If I promised to be quiet?”

And Hux imagines it, Ren’s body, limp and pliant and ready. Maybe his cock would be hard, stretched up and pressed against his belly. He could hold one of those long legs up, feel the meat of one of those strong thighs in his hands while he pushed into him. Quiet, relaxed, like this.

“I think so,” says Hux. He slides one arm over, and lets it press against Ren’s warm skin.

In the dark, two bodies breathe, in and out, warm and quiet.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm appalled that this is probably the "softest" thing I've written. But I love the Daphne Gottlieb story because of it's incredible softness and tenderness, and I hope I managed to capture even a fraction of her genius in this (highly pornographic) homage.


End file.
